A Goldfish Named Minnie
by Daimeera
Summary: Tell me about Charlie, Emma whispered. OneShot


Written after a long, long writer's block. This creation was for Jackie's (degrassidreamer's) birthday, hence the pairing. It was a rush job, so it's far from perfect, but at least it's complete, right?

* * *

Sean didn't have to look at the clock. He knew it was ten past midnight because it was always ten past midnight when she started crying.

He still slept on the couch right above Emma's room. He'd been there ever since he'd moved in with the Simpson-Nelsons. Sometimes he pulled out the bed but usually he just used the couch as it was. It was easier, and he wasn't fussy. The couch was comfortable, anyway, and he'd only rolled off it once, and that was on the first night of being there. His body had since adapted and he knew just how to move to stay in the center of the narrow cushions. Besides, it beat the floor, and it beat the extra ten minutes of fixing the bed everyday.

The first night after JT's death, Emma had slept soundly. Sean had been able to hear her soft snores as he laid awake, counting every minute that ticked its way off the clock. He suspected her exhaustion had a lot to do with booze, and little to do with what she would have otherwise been thinking. The next night, he was proven correct when he heard the choked sobs that she would have been mortified to admit.

He assumed she waited until she thought everyone would be asleep. It's what he had intended to do, when he'd first heard her. Sean didn't cry, after all. He punched things, and consoled, but he didn't cry--at least not in any obvious manner. But he had wanted to cry, and he'd been about to, when he heard her.

And since then, like clockwork, he'd clenched his lips and been silent as he listened to her and tried to figure out what to do.

He let it go on for two weeks, but finally he could stand it no longer. So he pulled on his socks and padded down the basement stairs as softly as he could.

She was huddled in bed, curled up tight, with her back facing him. He didn't know if she was aware of his presence and ignoring him, or if she didn't realise he was there. She looked fragile, and he longed to do something--anything--to stop her from looking quite so pathetic and lost. But he couldn't fix her, and that burned him up inside.

He watched her for a moment, making sure she was breathing. He know she was, but it was still comforting to see it, to know she was there, and know she was still possible to rescue.

"Em," he whispered, and her body tensed and jerked. "Sorry," he added immediately.

She rolled over to face him, and she tried to act as if she wasn't crying. "Sean," she murmured. "It's after midnight. What's going on?"

"Are you okay?" He didn't know what to say now that he was actually here, facing her.

"Yeah, I'm fine." With some effort, she managed a puzzled look. "You woke me up, that's all."

Sean hesitated, and then without permission climbed onto the bed beside her. "You weren't asleep," he said. "I could hear you."

She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, and offered up an unnatural smile. The room was dim, and she was glad for that, but she wished that for once, she'd left the night light off. She'd needed it ever since . . . that night. She couldn't refer to it any other way. She tried not to think about it at all. But she would have done anything to turn off the light and sit in silence so Sean couldn't read her pain.

"You should be in bed," she said finally. "I'm sorry I disturbed you."

"You didn't. I was awake too. I am. Every night."

They sat in silence for one moment, then two. The digital clock on her bedside table ticked its way past 12:23, and the green light blurred and blinded them, because they were both crying now.

Sean finally managed to compose himself--sort of. "Lay down," he said. He could feel her shaking in her thin pyjamas, but after a moment, she did as he asked.

He followed her lead and let his fingers dance across her skin until his arms were around her, holding her, steadying her, keeping her warm. And she took a deep breath, and let it out in a deeper sigh, and the tension left her body, and his.

"Tell me about Charlie," Emma whispered.

"Charlie?"

"You know, your dog. Springer Spaniel, right? You mentioned him back when we were in grade seven."

Sean chuckled, jiggling the bed. "You remember that?" His laugh was contagious, and the giggle that escaped Emma's lips was the most beautiful thing Sean could remember hearing.

"Hey, I was in love," Emma said, a touch sheepish. "At least I had good taste."

"Charlie was great," Sean said. "And you did. And you still do, I hope."

"I'm pretty sure of it."

"I don't know what to tell you about Charlie, really. He liked the beach. He wasn't a very good swimmer, but he smelled horrible if he got in the water even just to his chest." Emma reached up and placed her hand on his, feeling every calloused inch of its surface. "What about you? I'm sure your house was a zoo when you were little."

"Hardly," Emma said. "I had a fish when I was five. A goldfish, named Minnie. Don't ask me why. But all she could do was swim around all day in the stupid little bowl. I felt bad for her. So one day, I dumped her into the toilet and flushed." She shuddered. "I thought I was giving her freedom. Stupid, impulsive me. I was sure mom wouldn't let me do it, so I wanted to do it myself."

"Ouch," Sean said. He really didn't know what else he could say.

"Needless to say, I didn't get another pet after that."

Sean reached up and brushed a lock of hair away from her face. Her cheeks were dry now. He moved his hands down to her shoulders, massaging the skin gently. She leaned into it and he cringed at each bone protruding beneath his touch. She'd been eating the last few days, finally, but a week's mourning had taken its toll.

"I bet JT loved animals," Sean said. It was a risk, but he felt like he had to take it.

"He did. When we were little, he'd always find bugs and salamanders and frogs and whatever else and keep them in a bottle for a day or two. He was fascinated by them." This time it was Sean who relaxed.

"He must have been a crazy kid," Sean commented.

"He was. But that didn't really change, did it?"

He breathed her in, knowing an answer wasn't really required. And as they laid there, their bodies rose and fell in unison, as they finally felt a sense of peace. The words had been finally said. The name had been finally said. There was no longer a full sense of taboo.

And there was one more thing, on a whim, that Sean knew he had to say. "Em?"

"Mmhmm?" She was already halfway into sleep.

"I love you."


End file.
